


It may have been in pieces (but I gave you the best of me)

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, First Love, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Captain America: Civil War, Protective Bucky Barnes, Stubborn Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, [trying to protect Steve from him], inspired by the March 2016 trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their story there are no page numbers, no torch to light the way. There is only the whisper of memories and thick layers of dust in between the folds but Steve Rogers is no quitter. His mother raised him to fight, his best friend taught him how. What he never expected was that he'd stand stock still while those hands that had held his own and gently curled one into a fist ("You can't go in swingin' like that, Steve. You wanna break your thumb?") to show him how to throw a punch would find him on the other side of them.</p><p>But this is not a completed story, they are not Alexandria and the library is not on fire. The scrolls are not yet cinders and ashes and as far as Steve is concerned, they never will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It may have been in pieces (but I gave you the best of me)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I refuse to be loved halfway](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/180796) by Isabelle F. 



_I refuse to be loved halfway, and don’t you dare love me softly_

_I want love with thorns that leave scratches down my back_

_and kisses so searing they leave my lips burning for days_

[Isabelle F](http://vibrating-heart.tumblr.com/)

In Steve's life he has taken many wrong turns and each one hasn't been without consequence but, by far, his biggest mistake was letting Bucky slip through his fingers not once but twice as if history itself wants to rip them apart like the binding of a book that was just barely holding itself together. Snip the thread and its pages will fall to the floor one by one until they're so jumbled that it's nearly impossible to make sense of them.

In their story there are no page numbers, no torch to light the way. There is only the whisper of memories and thick layers of dust in between the folds but Steve Rogers is no quitter. His mother raised him to fight, his best friend taught him how. What he never expected was that he'd stand stock still while those hands that had held his own and gently curled one into a fist ("You can't go in swingin' like that, Steve. You wanna break your thumb?") to show him how to throw a punch would find him on the other side of them.

But this is not a completed story, they are not Alexandria and the library is not on fire. The scrolls are not yet cinders and ashes and as far as Steve is concerned, they never will be.

He has catalogued the two instances where he actually found Bucky -

 

 **1.** "Do it or kill me 'cause I'm not walking away without you, Buck."

A perfect row of white teeth grit against one another and Bucky's eyes are as dark and cold as night but then, just as Steve braces himself for impact, something snaps. Bucky steps back, eyes wide and horrified, mouth gaping and hands flexing from fist to open palm and back again.

Steve edges away from the hard wall Bucky had kicked him against, hands up in a show of surrender and slowly walks toward Bucky as if he's a frightened animal.

"Come with me. I have a friend who can help us."

Bucky's jaw clenches and his entire body stiffens. "I don't need your help, I don't need anything."

Classic Bucky, for as much as he has changed he's still in there with his stubborn will though normally _he_ would be the one pushing back at Steve when Steve would insist that he could make it on his own. It feels wrong that somehow the tables have turned on them and Bucky is the one who actually wants to leave.

"You don't have to do this alone."

Bucky bites down hard on his bottom lip (and that has to hurt, perhaps he's reminding himself that he's alive, that he's human and _not_ a machine that's malfunctioning) and for half a second Steve can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

And then he turns and takes off running; leaves Steve exhausted and crumpling into a heap against the wall.

 

 **2.** "I told you to stop following me."

Its been two months since Bucky chose to walk away from Steve and Steve hasn't given up on him. He meant it when he said that in order for Bucky to get rid of him he'd have to kill him and the words that Bucky screamed at him decades ago ("No! Not without YOU!") are the mantra that keeps him going.

"You know I can't do that, Bucky."

"Leave," Bucky orders as he digs through a scuffed backpack and holds himself at an angle as if he's expecting Steve to lunge at him when he's vulnerable, when he's searching through his pack. He stored something there in case Steve found him once more and it's Bucky's way of bidding his past a final farewell because he's dangerous, he's lethal. He will kill again, it's just a matter of time and the mission imperative that forever blinks _INCOMPLETE_ will always be Steven G. Rogers.

Steve squares his shoulders and takes the stance of a well versed military man - "Not without you."

"Take this," Bucky growls as he takes the item and holds it out to Steve.

It's a baseball card, worn at the edges and fading with age. Its surface is wrinkled and torn at the lower left side where Bucky had kept it safely tucked into his back pocket for months. He'd shamelessly stolen it from a prized collection as it sparked something within him; some memory that knocked around in his head and refused to make itself known but Steve hasn't forgotten. The team and dates line up with the last baseball game they'd attended together before Bucky shipped out for basic.

Steve's entire face softens as he rubs his thumb over every edge - "You remember me."

"I don't," Bucky lies as he zips his back and snaps the chest strap closed.

But Steve is Steve no matter the time period they find themselves in and he only believes what he wants to believe.

"Yes you do."

"It's a card, that's all," Bucky insists.

"It's more than that and you know it or you wouldn't have picked it up."

Well he's not wrong.

"Goodbye Steve," Bucky murmurs and leaves once more.

He shouldn't have used his name, he knows this but it felt right on his tongue. The weight of that name made his chest ache but he couldn't do this; he is still a weapon and Steve Rogers is still his target.

 *

And surely the third time really is a charm. This will not be the end for them, it's merely another chapter. Steve will make sure of it.

 *

**[THREE]**

_He's going to shoot me. I'm going to die at my best friends hand_ , Steve thinks to himself.

He won't resist, he'll go willingly if it means that Bucky is forever lost to him and there's truly no chance of bringing him back. He's tired of dragging around his heavy heart and trying to glue it back together only for it to fall apart as soon as he sees Bucky's face. They can't live like this.

Bucky grips the gun harder as his finger slips closer to the trigger and Steve keeps his eyes on Bucky's - if hes to die tonight then he wants those blue eyes to be the last thing he sees even if they're nearly unrecognizable.

"Get out of here," Bucky growls as he lowers the weapon.

In a split second decision Steve wraps both hands around it and pushes it against his forehead - Bucky's hand is cold against his own, cold against the gun metal.

"If you're not coming with me then go ahead and shoot me. I can't do this anymore, Bucky."

"Why are you so keen on dying?," Bucky asks and it's so reminiscent of their past and him saying the exact same words when he'd find Steve in a back alley with broken bones and a split lip that it makes Steve giddy.

Steve smiles, he can't help himself. There's a gun against his skin and he's grinning like a fool.

"Some things never change," he replies.

Bucky forces Steve's hands away from the gun and tucks it into its holster. "I could've killed you."

Steve's smile fades - "But you didn't. That's gotta mean something, Buck."

"I'm not going with you."

It's moments like this that the stubborn Steve Rogers of Brooklyn New York and street scuffles comes out - "And why not? Go on, give me a reason and make it convincing or kill me because we both know I'm not backing down from this fight."

Bucky slams Steve up against the dusty concrete walls of a safehouse that likely hasn't been in use since the late '60s and presses a metal hand to his chest.

"I said leave me alone."

But Steve never knows when to quit. He pushes back just hard enough to make Bucky budge an inch or so.

"NO. I'm not doing that and you know why? Because you're my friend Bucky and friends stick together. They don't run off when things get too hard, you taught me that. Whether you want to accept it or not someone in this world _does_ actually care about you."

Bucky takes a deep breath in and out and the hand still curled around the soft material of Steve's t-shirt relaxes.

"I'm not worth saving."

Steve places a hand over Bucky's and grips it tightly - "I'm not trying to _save_ you. I'm trying to keep you with me. There's a difference."

If Bucky doesn't know how much he's loved by now then they're both doomed. Steve was built for giving orders, for memorizing enemy maps and tackling whatever beast falls from the sky next but he is not built for talking, for putting his feelings into words but he tries. He has to try.

He clears his throat and begins.

"I know you care about me, _you_ know you do. I'm not asking for Hallmark cards and poetry, we were never that. I'm asking you to give me every dark part of you and the side of you that no one but me gets to see. I'm asking you to love me, Buck. Love me like a starving wolf loves meat, desperate and raw. Love with with your fists and legs if that's the only way you can show it. Love me with sharp fingernails and bruises. Love me harder. Please. That's all I want from you."

He hadn't planned on waxing poetic but once the words had began he couldn't stop them, couldn't call them back. They'd been clawing their way to the top for decades and from the minute Steve had found out that Bucky _had_ survived the fall they'd haunted him even more. Every brush with death, every close call had found him fighting not only to save others but to save himself because those words were painful reminders of all the things he never had to chance to tell Bucky, all of the hugs never taken, every lonely night spent in an apartment that felt like a cage and he'd told himself that if he'd been given another chance he'd take it. He couldn't let himself get killed and it was strange but in his gut he'd never felt Bucky's death - it was as if he were still fighting overseas; dirty and tired but _living_ and that was what had kept Steve alive back then.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm a weapon," Bucky replies but his words lack conviction.

"You're what they made you but you're also James Buchanan Barnes and you're my friend."

Bucky shakes his head no and pulls his hand back, tucks it into his pocket and seems to retreat into himself - a coping mechanism.

"I'm not."

Steve keeps his distance, allows Bucky his space but he doesn't surrender. "I know you, Buck. I know you better than I know myself."

"You used to."

"Then give me the chance to know you better."

Bucky huffs - "Why?"

"Because I can't leave you, not this time."

"I'm not your duty, soldier. I'm not your mission," Bucky snarks. It's a reminder to himself as much as it is to Steve.

"Since when? From the way I remember it I was always your mission, you made sure of that. No, you're not my duty; never have been. I'm here because I want to be."

"You never know when to walk away, do you?"

Steve smirks - "Nope."

"I'll try to kill you," Bucky states.

The words are not harsh; rather they're laced with regret and pain.

"I can live with that."

Bucky scoffs - "Or not."

Steve grins - "I see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

Bucky stares back but there's the slightest movement at the corner of his lips that gives him away and Steve caused that. The weight on his chest seems to lighten somewhat.

"Are we going to give this a try or are you going to keep talking?," Steve teases.

Bucky has never known when to shut up and though he speaks less these days that element is still there.

"Thought we'd shoot the breeze about the weather," he snarks - face deadpan and eyes giving nothing away.

He happens to have a best friend who knows him better than anyone ever has and can throw sarcasm right back at him. 

Steve smiles (he hasn't smiled this much in years and it feels odd but he likes it) - "Stand up straight, soldier. We can talk about the rain as we walk."

Bucky huffs but holds out a hand to Steve anyway - "Help me up."

They both know that he's more than capable of standing on his own but it's a gesture; a small token of trust.

The hand that Steve is so familiar with (that was the object of many thumb wrestling competitions when they were children and held his own many times when he was sick) curls around his own and it's warm with pale veins and scars. He holds onto it and brings it to his chest, presses it against his heart.

"Can you do that for me?," he asks.

"Do what?"

"Love me harder."

Bucky purses his lips together and stares over Steve's shoulder (this too is familiar, it's what he does when he's trying not to cry). "I can try."

If the expression in Steve's eyes (like he has stumbled upon the secrets of the universe) is anything to go by, it won't be hard to do but as far as Bucky can remember it never has been. If memory serves correctly he has loved Steve Rogers in every hour, every minute, every single day of his life and if they have to fight to hold onto what they have then he'll be the first to suit up.

"Can I....?," Steve asks and Bucky stiffens.

"I'd like to hug you," Steve clarifies. They're not to the point of anything more and he has waited this long, he'll take what he can get.

Bucky nods once and keeps his arms at his side as Steve hugs him.

It takes his body a moment to recall what it feels like to be loved, to have another person hold you like you're worth touching but when he does he buries his face in Steve's shirt and wraps both arms around his waist as tightly as he can like he never wants to let go. The feeling is mutual. 

They stand there simply clinging to one another and not speaking until their arms begin to ache and even as they step apart they keep one another within arms reach.

"Ready?," Steve asks.

Bucky nods and takes Steve's hand in his own. 

Steve Rogers is his mission and the imperative switches from KILL to PROTECT.

**Author's Note:**

> ALL CREDIT FOR THE POEM GOES TO http://vibrating-heart.tumblr.com/ and served as inspiration [seriously talented writer] 
> 
> Title is by the beautiful Jim Morrison of The Doors (he wrote amazing poetry)


End file.
